The air is buzzing with anticipation.
Regulus stands on stage, cheering and dancing in a lively twist.
Regulus: Hello, "Free Breeze"! Listen up all my rock 'n' roll stars, fans, and wannabes!
Regulus: You lot are in luck, because you are about to experience the greatest, grandest, most radical rock 'n' roll party of the era!
Guests: Woo-hoo!
Regulus: Now get up on those feet and drag those little legs of yours on deck. Because it's time to get those old bones jumping!
Regulus: Just think, folks, one day you'll be sitting by a fireplace, telling your grandkiddies that you were here. This is the night you become a legend!
Barcarola: Hi, Regulus!
Barcarola bursts into the room.
Regulus: Well, if it isn't our star musician!
Barcarola: This isn't what we agreed on. I thought we'd make our preparations together.
Regulus: Umm, what preparations?
Barcarola pats her chest as she tries to steady her breathing.
Barcarola: To begin with, we must do a survey of our guests' musical preferences, then prepare a song list to match. Then we must carefully organize our transitions to optimize the flow of the concert.
Regulus: Wait, wait, wait!
Regulus: Arrangements? Concert? What are you on about? This is rock 'n' roll, love! A proper rock 'n' roll party!
Barcarola: No arrangements? No song list? This isn't what I was taught to do in Cremona.
Barcarola: As musicians, we have a responsibility to ensure that every listener enjoys an exquisite and seamless experience. We must allow them to savor the emotion and artistry of each piece!
Regulus: Sounds a bit stuffy, doesn't it? C'mon, no reason to get all hung up on the details. Music is freedom! The only thing that matters in rock 'n' roll are the vibes!
Regulus clearly holds no space for unnecessary formalities.
Regulus: You don't use your brain. You feel it in your heart, babe.
Regulus: Guess your miserable old music teachers never taught you that, eh?
Barcarola furrows her brow, but eventually her expression relaxes.
Barcarola: Fine.
Barcarola: But just to be clear, next time we do it my way.
Regulus: Ha! Cheers, love. You're an inspiration to musical directors the whole world over!
Barcarola: ...
Flattery is often more effective than any incantation.
Barcarola: You can find the record player in the locker backstage.
Regulus immediately darts backstage.
Regulus: Fab!
Turn off the lights.
Connect the sound system, check the stylus, pick a record.
Position the tonearm, raise your hands high, and get ready for a—
Barcarola: Is this what you call "heavy metal"?
Regulus: Uh, what's that? No, no! First up is an iconic taste of psychedelic rock!
Regulus: Uhh. But I haven't even found the power socket yet.
The clanging of metal echoes from the lower decks, growing louder and clearer.
Then, an eerie, otherworldly shrieking follows.
Followed by what feels like an earthquake.
While the guests exchange uneasy glances, Sonetto has sensed that something is amiss.
Sonetto: Timekeeper, those sounds are familiar, aren't they?
Vertin: Metallic percussion sounds, sprinkled with screams of pain ...
Vertin: It's Manus Vindictae!
Those blackened, bizarre metallic creatures rear their heads once more.
Disciple of the Manus: roar Sift ...
A torrent of metal instruments surges up from the stairwells to the lower levels, like oil gushing out of a pipe.
Disciple of the Manus: And ... trial ...! roar
The sudden commotion sends the guests into an uproar.
They huddle together, whispering nervously to one another.
Regulus: What?! These persistent pests again?! Which hellhole did they crawl out of this time?!
Barcarola: Don't worry, Ms. Regulus. I won't let them disturb your rock party!
She stands calmly but fiercely before them.
Barcarola: You oafish barnacles are ruining the atmosphere and scaring our guests! I very much doubt you're doing this with the approval of Captain Grace.
Barcarola: You should be working in the engine room, not making noise up on deck!
Barcarola: Have you all forgotten the Seafarers' Code of Conduct?
They appear unmoved. The Foundation's investigators step forward, immediately taking command of the situation.
Vertin: Sonetto, Regulus, get the crowd out of here.
Vertin: Get ready to engage with these Manus thugs.
Sonetto: Understood!
Sonetto: Ms. Barcarola, I'll ask you kindly to step back from these brutes.
Barcarola: Please, Miss. There's no need for alarm. I know they may look a little strange, but they're just engine crew. They work here.
Barcarola: And as such, as our musical director, I have some authority over them. Moreover, it is my duty to ensure all our guests have a safe and enjoyable stay.
Vertin: Now I see how the Manus kept themselves hidden.
Fatutu quickly finds herself trapped amid the restless crowd.
She stands on tiptoe, dazzled by the countless overlapping shadows and rays of sunlight.
Fatutu: Is that Barcarola? What's she doing over there?
Amid curious and astonished gazes, Barcarola gradually approaches the dark mass of Manus followers.
Barcarola: If you've come to be entertained, or perhaps for some music lessons, I would be more than happy to assist you in the crew quarters later.
Barcarola: However, your musical talents will not be needed at this time, as we already have a scheduled performance.
Disciple of the Manus: roar New ... era—
No heed is taken. Instead, a hammer is raised high.
Vertin: Stop them!
COMBAT
More and more Manus disciples fill the perimeter of the hall, surrounding those inside like trembling penned sheep.
Barcarola: W-What's happening!? Why are they acting crazy?
She stands resolutely, putting herself between the guests and the crazed Manus disciples, her heavy breathing condensing on the neck of her Crackling Box.
Barcarola: As the musical director of the "Free Breeze," I can't allow you to harm our guests.
???: Hmph, enough of your nonsense, foolish outsider!
A flash of cold light streaks through the air.
Fatutu: No!
Fatutu: *Popo protect!
A shell-shaped ripple appears, deflecting the icy arrow.
Barcarola: ...!
Fatutu: Are you okay, Barcarola?
Fatutu darts out from the crowd, rushing over to Barcarola with no regard for the surprised stares of the Nukutai behind her.
???: What are you doing, Fatutu?!
???: That is an outsider! Have you forgotten your duty to your people?
A stern, familiar reprimand booms in her ears.
After steadying the shaken musician, Fatutu nervously turns around.
Her brother's figure looms in the shadows of the crowd. For the first time, this image deeply unsettles her.
Fatutu: No, never, but ...
Fatutu: Kamuta, this is not defending our home, and it doesn't feel like avenging it either.
Fatutu: What we suffered was not these people's fault! There has to be a better solution to all this!
Fatutu: This isn't our way. It isn't right.
Fatutu stares fearfully as her brother draws closer.
As he comes into the light, she finds herself staring into a face that is both familiar and strange.
Fatutu: Kamuta ...
Kamuta: ...
Kamuta gently shakes his head. Inky black liquid drips from the seams of his mask.
Kamuta: Fatutu, we have no choice.